No24  Skydiving
by Marauder-In-Disguise
Summary: "It's as though the weight on his chest has lifted just enough to remind him how to breathe." And it feels fantastic...


**A/N - Because Jason Gideon is nowhere near absent minded enough to botch a skydiving landing…at least not in the same way as mere mortals**

**Disclaimer – Hold on, what's this in this drawer? Could it be? Oh wait, nope. It's not Criminal Minds. Guess I still don't own it. Ah well. Maybe one day…**

_**Life is either a daring adventure or nothing**_

_**Helen Keller**_

He doesn't notice planes anymore; the roar as the engines are kicked into life, the feel in his stomach as the wheels leave the tarmac, the dull pop in the ears that is obviously bothering some of his fellow passengers. To pass the time, he watches them keenly, knowing which fly regularly and theorising about –

Stop – he mentally chides himself. No profiling today. He promised himself. Today is about him and a long held wish he wants to fulfil. He now accepts that the idea terrifies him and he can deal with that fear now that it had been labelled and put in a box to be examined, understood and conquered. For too long, he's put it off, convincing himself that it's a simple fear of heights that's been holding him back, something he can eventually find the time to combat. Lately though, he's realised that it's more than that.

He knows that he can sometimes be controlling, that he likes things to be perfect and done his way. He knows that this is a fault as well as a strength. He knows this. And he also knows that there is something about the sheer act of throwing yourself from and aeroplane, strapped to another human being, which seems to relinquish this control. For a few moments, he would be entirely trusting something else; a person, a parachute, the wind. Jason Gideon knows how hard that will be. He doesn't have trust issues, that's not the problem. He trusts a lot of things; his ability to profile, his team, the bulletproof vest he pulls on before a confrontation, a good glass of wine, his own recipe for ravioli. No, trust issues are not the problem. The problem is that he knows he can control those things. They rely on him and the decisions that he makes. He would trust Aaron Hotchner with his life, until he decided that he no longer could. He knows exactly how much garlic to put in the filling for his ravioli. He always calls the shots. Skydiving means letting go of that control for just a few minutes, because once he leaves that plane, he is trusting that the man he is strapped to will do things right until they hit the ground. No, it has been a long time since Jason Gideon didn't hold all the cards and he is terrified.

He watches as, one by one, his fellow passengers are strapped to their instructors and make the leap. He wants more than anything to not be the last to jump, because he knows that he'll be more likely to keep up the FBI bravado if there are other people watching him. No such luck. All too soon, only Jason and his instructor, Fraser, are left in the plane. Fraser turns from the door, where he has been watching the others jump, and aims a thumbs up at Jason.

Time to go.

Swallowing the bile that rises in his throat, Jason moves towards the younger man. They've run through the procedure on the ground and Jason stands passively, allowing Fraser to get them ready to jump. He closes his eyes and breaths deeply, finding that it helps if he pretends that the other man is Aaron, Spencer, even Derek – someone that he knows he would be safe with. He feels, rather than sees, Fraser move them gently towards the door and he suddenly feels very ridiculous. He cannot pretend that the other man is anyone else, because if he was then he would be able to grab an arm and hold on tight almost without a second thought from either party. His boys knew him well enough to understand what that gesture would mean. No, he realises. He's on his own here. This is something he has to do by himself.

Fraser takes the final step and then there is nothing.

Nothing, except the air rushing past him and the same terror seizing his chest. His mind searches for something to latch on to – anything that has felt like this before - and settles for a memory so old that sometimes he forgets that he didn't dream it.

"_Jason, be careful!"_

_The high, anxious voice of his best friend floats upwards. He can't see Rosie anymore but her occasional shout tells him that it's only the low canopy of leaves hiding her from him. He pauses to catch his breath and calls back._

"_It's OK, Rosie."_

"_Jason, I'm scared. Please come down."_

_He looks around him, trying to decide if there is a way to climb any higher in the enormous tree. There are a couple of good, big branches just above his head. If he stands up and reaches then -_

"_Jason, please!"_

_Rosie sounds scared, and he doesn't have it in him to ignore her. He never can. _

"_OK, I'm coming. Don't worry!"_

_He begins to scramble down the way he came, eager to show Rosie that he is alright. He gets through the canopy and can see her peering up at him, the expression on her face too old for a nine year old. He smiles, his foot missing the next branch and then he's falling, Rosie is screaming and he knows that when he hits the ground it's going to hurt like –_

The jerk of the parachute opening shocks his mind into the present and he swears involuntarily. The air whips away his words and he eventually forces himself to open his eyes. The ground looks far away, impossibly far, but he can just make out some of the other parachutes finishing the jump. He stares at the ground for a while, in the same way that he stares at a crime scene that makes him feel sick. He lets his brain and stomach adjust until he doesn't feel sick anymore, and then he thinks about something else. The old routine.

It's a beautiful day, by all accounts. The sun isn't fighting against cloud cover and although it's warm, it's not so hot that he's uncomfortable. All in all, the kind of day that he wishes for more often. Fraser pats him on the shoulder and holds up a thumb.

OK?

Jason is relieved to be able to answer yes. Better than OK. Now that he's used to the sensation, he finds that he's actually enjoying it. It takes a whole thirty seconds to realise that it's been at least a minute since he's thought about his job or his team. A whole minute since he thought about the mistakes that he's made, the ones that sit just on the edge of his mind.

The army.

Stephen.

Boston.

A whole minute since he thought about a dead body.

And when he realises that he hasn't thought about them, he doesn't feel any guilt in banishing them again. It's surprisingly easy; he just focuses on the view and the feeling in his stomach and they retreat until all he is thinking about is how he should have done this years ago. He feels…nothing, except for the warmth of the sun on his skin, and its bliss.

He's counselled so many people, so many colleagues, through difficult times in their lives and all of them say the same thing; that just for a while, they feel absolutely nothing. It doesn't matter if they are kissing someone, holding their babies, looking at a dead body or shooting a lost cause. There's just nothing. They come to him, because they assume that he's gone through it too. He does his best to help them, but feeling nothing has never, ever, been Jason's problem. He's always felt too much, and so keenly that sometimes it feels like a knife is being twisted in his stomach. He doesn't know how to let go, so to feel nothing now is like nectar, a medicine that he so badly needs to take. It will be over soon but it doesn't matter. Nothing does. It's as though the weight on his chest has lifted just enough to remind him how to breathe. He opens his mouth and yells incoherently, just because he can. It feels good.

He only notices that it's almost over when they're almost at the ground. Fraser is signalling frantically but Jason misinterprets and they botch the landing. A sudden pain shoots up Jason's leg and he shuts his eyes to blot out the white spots.

"_Jason?" _

_Rosie is shaking hum and he reluctantly opens his eyes. She has tears on her freckled cheeks as she gently touches his face._

"_Jason, are you OK?"_

_He carefully tests his limbs and finds that they're all working perfectly. He takes some experimental breaths and finds that he's just winded himself. Slowly, he sits up._

"_I'm alright, Rose. Don't be scared anymore."_

"_Oh Jason," she cries, throwing her arms around him, "I thought you'd hurt yourself."_

"_Don't cry," he smiles gently, reaching up and wiping away the tears from her cheeks. She smiles back and helps him to his feet, clinging to his arm as they walk slowly away._

"_Were you scared?"_

"_Yes, but it's alright you know –"_

"Jason?"

He opens his eyes and looks at Fraser's worried face.

"I'm sorry, Jason. I think that-"

"My fault," Jason winces as he tries to move his leg, "I wasn't concentrating. What's going on?"

"We've called an ambulance. They won't be long."

"Thanks," he murmurs, closing his eyes and letting them think that he's passed out from the pain.

"_It's alright you know. My dad says that you have to be scared sometimes. It makes everything more like an adventure."_

"_I don't like being scared," Rosie whispers._

"_I know," he nods, "But that's alright too, because I'm here to protect you."_

_She clings a little tighter to his arm and says, so quietly that he can barely hear her, "You'll always be my friend, won't you?"_

"_Always."_

"_You'll never be different will you?"_

_He looks curiously at her, his dark eyes betraying his confusion._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Mommy says that my daddy isn't the same. He's not nice when he was little. It makes her sad."_

_Rosie's eyes fill once more with tears and Jason cannot help but put an arm around her shoulders._

"_You're really good, Jason. My mommy says so," she gulps, "Please say you won't change like my daddy."_

"_I promise."_

When the ambulance arrives, he opens his eyes and talks to the paramedics. As they load him into the ambulance, he doesn't miss the glance between them, as they wonder why the man with tears in his eyes also wears a warm smile on his face. If they asked he'd lie and say that his leg hurt. There were some things that other people just didn't need to know.


End file.
